


Children of Men

by Meadow_Wanderer



Category: Hannibal (TV), Red Dragon - Thomas Harris
Genre: Angst, Blood and Violence, Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Dark Will, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, F/F, F/M, False Identity, Hannibal is Hannibal, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Mpreg, Jimmy is getting real tired of Hannibal and Will's shit, Kid Fic, M/M, Multi, Not too dark, Past Relationship(s), Secrets, Serial Killers, still a cannibal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-12 12:52:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4479878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meadow_Wanderer/pseuds/Meadow_Wanderer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The fronts of newspapers were splattered with the photos of FBI Agent Will Graham and Dr. Hannibal Lecter, now referred to either as the Chesapeake Ripper or crudely as Hannibal the Cannibal. The presses ran hot day and night for weeks, twenty-six letters of the alphabet used continuously to explain in pages with long black inked paragraphs about what happened that night and sequentially what led up to it. They'll have sections devoted solely to those involved with details of how close they worked with both men; he'll hear for days about photographers and bloggers hounding Jack, Alana, and even Zeller.</p><p>And yet everyone seems to forget about Jimmy's part in all this.</p><p>And god did he hope it stayed forgotten.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What They Know

**Author's Note:**

> So, Hannibal has finally come to a close and while sad, it ended beautifully. In a celebration of having been a part of such great fandom that got to experience a piece art that the show was, here is my first hannibal story. I put a time stamp, because I need to finish or continue working on other works I've already started and I've got school going which is hectic and crazy. But don't worry, the time stamp is a guarantee that I'll be starting it, which I've already got plans and some stuff written down.
> 
> Know whats surprising? No one has ever made a Jimmy Price/Hannibal fic! I am in shock! I love Price, especially played by Scott Thompson who is hilarious in his post-mortem interviews. And even shocking is there is not a story pairing him with Will, unless its a group orgy with Beverly and Zeller but i usually stay away from those lol. So here's my take on a story. Sorry if its not yo cup of tea, but hopefully it will be interesting to read nonetheless. 
> 
> Also, yes this story has mpreg in it, which apologies if it isn't your thing. BUT! Good news of those people are uncomfortable with mpreg and still want to give it a try, this story out of all the mpreg stories I have and have not yet written will not be focusing too much at all on the actual pregnancy. Instead, its the after that more important. And if anything, it will only be referencing the mpreg or having short flashbacks.
> 
> Anyways, Bon appetite and Enjoy! <3

 

“It is easier to build strong children than to repair broken men.” –Frederick Douglass

 

Of all things Jimmy Price recalled when the news broke out of the gruesome night at Dr. Hannibal Lecter's house, it was a memory from two months prior, when he was standing in Hannibal's private study, eyes drifting across old books that stacked high and numerous in the dark cherry wooden shelves. He remembers being able to hear the noise from the cocktail party drifting through through the walls. In his hands, he held a bound blue book, filled with poems written by various authors, the most notable one penned by Robert Frost.

_"Frost had an ability take one's ideals, their imaginative aspirations, and bring them about to the cruel reality we try so hard to ignore, as if to remind us that no matter what we may achieve in this life, we cannot escape our mortal fate." The physiatrist's eloquent insight flows out of his mouth like a deep red wine spilling from a decanter. "He had a gift, did he not?"_

_Hannibal sets down his glass and waits_   _patiently_   _for his answer._

 

*** 

When the topic of the Chesapeake Ripper is brought forth in conversation with a sort of greedy curiousness, people recount the staggering number of cases, and if the body count is not shocking enough, they'll delve into some of gruesome ways the victims were murdered, never to pass on a moment to exaggerate for an audience they so rarely get outside of their kids' soccer games or PTA meetings.  They’ll recount the states of those involved in the investigation, the ones who got the closest to the case and ended up dead or bleeding out on the floor of the Chesapeake Ripper’s own home. They speak of what they know and what they think they know.

They’ll speak of Hannibal Lecter, who had for so long played the part of a well-educated, well-meaning physiatrist brought on as a consultant of the FBI. He will be the main reason the bureau came under investigation in the months following the incident, a question about the competence of the people entrusted to catch the bad guys, not hire and allow them access to valuable information. They speak of him, shivers running up their spines at the thought of what he was apparently doing with the missing organs from his victims.

They’ll speak of Will Graham, the revealed empathetic FBI professor and field agent, who had been wrongfully accused of the Ripper’s killings that Hannibal had so carefully and well-constructedly pinned on him. They speak of how he tried to catch Hannibal once cleared of all charges, but they question if his loyalties were blurred during the chase. They wonder what happened that night that made Hannibal Lecter, who was without question closest to Graham, turn on his protégé enough to cut him deep across the abdomen with a curved knife and leave him bleeding out with the rest of them.

They’ll speak of Jack Crawford, head of the Behavior Science Unit at the FBI. They’ll speak of how the stress of the job and his wife’s terminal illness made the agent all too eager to close the Ripper case that had plagued him for years. They’ll assume Jack was also too self-assured of himself, using any little bit of evidence that turned up as a stick to point towards the believed to be guilty party, an assumption that appeared all to true in prior months. They wonder what Jack was thinking of accomplishing that night he went to confront Lecter, and if it was worth it when he ended up in the pantry, bleeding from a lacerated neck wound. They also silently wonder if Bella was haunted by the sound of Jack’s labored and pained breathing when he called her that night as he bled out.

They’ll speak of Alana Bloom, the FBI physiatrist who was a former student and colleague of the good doctor’s. They sneer with disgust at the rumor of how she may have fallen into Lecter’s trap, whispers of allowing herself to climb into his bed and let the cannibalistic serial killer kiss her mouth and ravish her body. They’ll question why she had apparently tried so hard to deny Agent Crawford and Agent Graham’s insistence of Hannibal’s true nature. They pity her that she played the ignorance card, right up until she was pushed out of a second story window and lay injured on the stone steps, gasping as the rain continued to pour down on her.

They’ll speak of Abigail Hobbs, daughter of Garret Jacob Hobbs who had left his own mark in this dark world as a serial killer. They’ll speak of how the main evidence tying Will to her murder was her ear found in his throat, only to discover after the dreaded night that she had been alive the whole time, kept hidden and slowly brain washed by Hannibal. They’ll converse with horror of how in the hospital, Dr. Bloom revealed when questioned that it was not Hannibal that pushed her out of the window, but Abigail. They’ll fall into murmurs of devastation that Abigail had her throat slashed by two father figures in her life, on her own biological father and another someone she was forced to trust. They’ll speak with shock about the description given by paramedics when arrived at Lecter’s home, finding Will trying to staunch the blood flow from Abigail’s neck as he himself bled out on the floor. They’ll wonder softly if it’s a good thing she did not live through the night.

They’ll speak of many key characters involved: Freddy Lounds and her trashy but informative site Tattle-Crime; Miriam Lass and her fight for survival when kidnapped by the ripper and how Hannibal had played her right into their hands; Bevelry Katz, _oh Bev,_ and her body found cut into a gruesome message to be found by Will, a sign that people who help him are doomed for death. They add in conversationally that FBI analyst Brian Zeller identified the body, wondering if he sees her as both a sign of failure and loss. They’ll speak of Dr. Chilton and his role in Hannibal's masquerade, of Bedelia Du Maurier, Lecter’s own psychiatrist who absconded with him to another country and far away from American jurisdiction once Hannibal finished slashing those closest to the case; they’ll mention connections made months later, patients of Hannibal’s, Franklyn Froideveaux, Margot Verger, and others who had either died mysteriously or involved in crimes apparently instigated by Dr. Lecter. 

They’ll speak of everyone under the sun, except him. They will not speak of him at all, and unlike most, he is very utterly grateful.

Because if anyone somehow even found out that Jimmy Price was tied to the case, that he had an active part of the investigation, and that he gotten to known both Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter intimately for a few  brief moments, then they could learn something that he had tried to hide since leaving the bureau, and in doing so, threaten everything he holds dear.

*** 

 

_"Yes," he replied, eyes reading through the words printed in black ink across the page. He could sense Hannibal's presence slowly approach him, dark assessing eyes never straying far from him. He swallows silently. "The man certainly did know his stuff."_

 

He should have learned though, because like the famous poem goes,  _nothing gold can stay._


	2. A Day in the Life of Jimmy Price

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol I was looking up Scott Thompson's age and turns out he's 56! I was like "what?!" And on the Hannibal wiki it says Jimmy Price is 50, which is older than Hannibal and Will. In fact, Scott is older than Laurence, Mads, Hugh, Raùl etc.! I was surprised cause I just thought he was younger idk. lol
> 
> So anyways, in this story I will keep Jimmy's CURRENT age at 53/54, but when this whole mess began (right when Hannibal waltzed into their lives in all his goriness with beautiful cinematography) he was 49/50 years old. So this all began when Will was 36 (now 39/40) and Hannibal was 52 ( now 54/56). So in this story I'm making Hannibal the oldest, sorry not sorry. Everyone else, they can go by what the wiki says/guesses lol
> 
> Ok! You know who Reba McClane is. But we have new characters!
> 
> Connor Edwards is played by Luke Evans http://vignette3.wikia.nocookie.net/fastandfurious/images/9/97/Luke_Evans.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20140204122358&path-prefix=fr
> 
> The big boss of Adira Davis is played by Alfre Woodard http://www.eurweb.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/alfre-woodard.jpg
> 
>  More info in below at the end of the chapter.

 

The first time Jimmy met Will Graham, he turned out to be not what he was expecting.

 

_As they walk up the stairs to the victim's room, he can hear Beverly talking to someone._

_She's grilling him with that assessing tone she always used. "You..uh..not real FBI?"_

_A deeper, more rustic voice answers her. "I'm eh-special investigator."_

_"Never been an FBI agent?" He can hear the blatant surprise in her question._

_"Um..strict screening procedures," the guy trails off uncomfortably._

_"Detects instability...you unstable?" she asks with what he can only assume is a mischievous smile on her face._

_He has to bite his lip to keep from smiling at her no-bullshit directness, as Jack enters the room and chastises Beverly for her presence. He follows Zeller into the crime scene, taking in the owner of the voice with surprise. He was expecting a nerdy looking tech guy, but standing before him was a handsome man with stubble and curly hair. This guy could've probably walked into a crime scene and look like he owned the place, but instead the man was somber, a bit skittish of the company, and almost close to disgusted as he broke down the clues found on Elise Nickel's body._

_The guy also wouldn't make direct eye contact with anyone._

_This was the first meeting of the man who would soon become a familiar presence in the lab. Jack consistently brought him on for each case they came across, because he knew Will had an empathetic gift that would allow him to see into the mind of these killers, which would make catching them all the more easier. Working with Will Graham over the course of many months that followed, filled with numerous gruesome deaths, was both enlightening and a bit terrifying, to be honest. Will would challenge him to look at the victims, at crime scenes as more than just commonplace occurrences or coincidences. Everything was more than a clue, everything had deep meaning that Will could draw out like poison from a snake bite, with the grimace to match._

_He still remembers the uncontrollable shudder that rippled up his spine when Will uttered the words slowly as if they pained him, "He's eating them." They had seen a lot of gruesome stuff but cannibalism? That just wasn't something you saw everyday._

How ill-humored is it, as he reflects now, that the particularly gruesome crime that began this all eventually surrounded their everyday lives? Will helped introduced them to a view of a darkness that they couldn't believe humans to be capable of. It was an amazing ability the man had, but it also made him begin to wonder. If Will could draw out the poison from these crimes so easily, was he forgetting to spit it out or did he secretly enjoy the taste of it as he swallowed it down?

 

~~~

 

The shrill ringing of his alarm pulls him out of his sleep-induced coma. With muffled sigh, he rolls over to his side, handing reaching out blindly until it accomplishes it's objective and shuts off the alarm. He takes a moment before sitting up slowly, rubbing a hand over his face and then stretching out his back until it pops. 

With mustered determination, he gets out of bed, grabbing his robe from where it hangs on the closet door and putting it on over his fleece pajamas as he heads to the kitchen in his slippers, needing a good cup of coffee before he is ready to tackle the day. As he exits his room, he side steps around the clutter littering sporadically on the floor; toys, coloring utensils, picture books, all haphazardly placed that act as decoration around the house with the occasional drawing hanging on the walls.

He heads into the kitchen and turns on the coffee machine, placing his favorite dark blue mug underneath the nozzle as he begins getting out ingredients for breakfast. Today is Monday, which means waffles and fresh fruit. He turns on the waffle maker to heat it up, then gets out a mixing bowl and adds the batter mix into it, along with eggs, milk, and a touch of cinnamon, which is a favorite of all parties involved. Once the ingredients are thoroughly mixed together, he drizzles some of the batter into the waffle maker, closing the lid as he sets the timer. 

He goes over to his now full coffee cup, bring it up to inhale the delicious aroma, before finally taking a delightful sip. He may not be particularly religious, but he wouldn't object to labeling of the invention coffee as nothing short of a miracle. 

He sets his coffee down on the counter, opening a shelf underneath and taking out a knife to begin chopping the fruit into slices. Once the bananas, strawberries, and kiwis are all sliced, he unloads the waffle maker, placing the warm waffle on a plate as he begins putting different slices of fruit on the waffle in the shape of hair, eyes, a nose, and a smile. He also gets out a can of whip cream from the fridge, shaking it a bit before spraying some on both sides of the waffle in the shape of ears. 

Just as he finishes placing the plate on the table placemat in front of an empty seat, he notices his audience shuffling out of her room, a hand rubbing her eyes as she yawns.

"Well hey toots," he smiles fondly at his daughter, making his way around the counter to where she stands there in her pink pajamas. "I was just about to come wake you up."

Siegi sleepily smiles at up him. "Morning Daddy," she says sweetly, lifting her arms so he can pick her up, placing her on his hip as she lays her head tiredly on his shoulder. 

He kisses her forehead, hand rubbing her back soothingly. "Sleep well?"

She hums in response, nodding her head. He walks over to where he's set up breakfast, pulling out the chair from the island and placing her in the seat. 

She perks up at the sight of his masterpiece. "Waffles!"

"Yep, it's Monday, which means waffle day," he walks around the island towards the fridge. He opens it, scanning the shelves. "Ok toots, milk or apple juice?"

"Milk please."

He pulls out the carton, kicking the door closes behind him. "One glass of milk coming right up." He pours a good amount in the glass, then places it beside her plate.

She swallows her food before replying, "Thanks Daddy."

"You're welcome toots." He sips his coffee as he checks the clock, the time causing him to hurry back to his room. "Daddy's gonna go hop in the shower. Start putting on your outfit we laid out last night. I'll do your hair before we leave." He rushes off to get ready before remembering one last thing. "And don't forget to brush your teeth!"

"Ok Daddy," she calls back as she stuffs another forkful of waffle in her mouth.

 

~~~

 

He brushes back Siegi's long light brown hair, parting it neatly down the middle. She sits patiently on her bed as his fingers work quickly to braid one of the sides all the way down to the bottom, tying it with a clear hair tie before braiding the other side as well. Once finished, he uses some hair spray to smooth down any flyaway hairs. 

Stepping back to access his work, he pleased with the look and clasps his hands. "Ok toots. Time grab your bag and head out."

She hops off the bed, stuffing her favorite plush toy, a dog she named Marley, in her purple backpack that has different animals on it. She's always had a love for all kinds of animals ever since she could walk. She gets on her navy wool coat with his assistance, something a bit warmer that will withstand the cold that's settled in Chicago at this time of year.

He checks her over, making sure her white sweater is buttoned up underneath, jeans zipped-up, and the shoelaces on her keds are all tied, before he buttons up her overcoat and helps her get her arms through the straps of her bag. He then ushers her out of the room towards the front door, grabbing his brown suede jacket and bag as well. 

Outside he locks up the house, and then proceeds to help Siegi into the teal Ford Taurus parked in the shoveled driveway, buckling her up in the back safely in her carseat. He then shuts the door and checks his watch, pleased to to see he's got enough time to drop Siegi off and get to work early with a few minutes to spare. Once buckled in the driver's seat, he turns on the engine and backs up, before taking off towards the day care center.

Ten minutes and virtually no morning traffic later, he pulls up to the community center for young children, helping Siegi out of the car before walking hand and hand inside. She immediately spots some of her friends inside, bouncing up and down as he waves hello to Ms. Matthews, one of the kind older women who runs the center. He helps Siegi puts her things up in the cubby, hanging up her coat before bending down to her eye level.

"Now Miss Robin is gonna come pick you up later and she'll take you to her house for a few hours before Ballet class. I'll pick you up from there. Sound good?"

She nods her head quickly, always ecstatic when she gets to spend afternoons baking cookies with their usual sitter Robin. 

He beams at her. "Be good, toots."

She nods with a serious expression. "I will Daddy."

He smiles, kissing her forehead, before standing and gently rubbing her head, mindful of her braids. "Love you."

She hugs his leg with a "Love you too!," before taking off to play with her friends.

He watches the sight fondly for a moment before leaving to head off to work.

 

~~~

 

The elevator dings as the doors open for his arrival on the 5th floor of the Federal Bureau of Investigation building. He walks down the hallway, waving hello to a few people he tends to run into time to time during jobs. While the place may not be as homey to him as Virginia's building was, he can say with confidence that he's found his place here in the past few years.

He still works in the Behavioral Research and Instruction Unit- formerly known as the Behavioral Science Unit. Here though, the line defining his identity begins to blur, a mixture of who he is and who he pretends to be. He's still Jimmy Price, a charismatic and dedicated employee who specializes in fingerprints and investigates crimes like ones back in Quantico, but luckily a bit less morbid here. But to most of the staff he's known as Thomas James Beverly, single father who had transferred from Philadelphia after his wife passed away due to a terminal illness (he can't quite remember if he said it was from cancer or something like scurvy. Eh, details.) Most here call him either Jay or Thomas, both he'll happily take over Bev which brings up to many memories.

Only his boss, Adira Davis, knows the specifics of his past, his real name, his involvement in the famed Chesapeake Ripper case, and why he felt the need to transfer over 586 miles to Chicago. He hasn't told her absolutely  _everything,_ but she might have some clue to the deeper and darker weight he carries around. A bit of fear, anger, hurt, sadness, betrayal, worry mixed all together. He's grateful she didn't try to delve further during their interviews and instead welcomed him with open arms and a promise to protect him and his daughter from the monsters he fears most.

He rounds the corner and heads towards the second door on the right, taking out his keys to unlock it and drop off his things inside his office. He shrugs out of his jacket, hanging it on the wooden coat rack that stands near his bookshelf before grabbing his white lab coat and putting it on. He clips his id badge to his front pocket and then heads out of the office and towards the lab.

Just as he walks in, a warm voice greets him. "Good morning Jay. Seems you're early today."

He smiles and shakes his head, walking around the curly-haired woman to grab some gloves from the table. "I still don't know how you do that."

Reba smiles with unseeing dark brown eyes looking ahead, her hands working seamlessly to put together the Forensic Dual Flash Macro camera in front of her. "It's the way you walk, the certain sound of your steps," she turns towards where he stands. "Plus, now that you're standing closer, I can smell you."

He gasps dramatically. "I smell?"

"Don't you always?" another voice belonging to Connor Edwards jokes, grinning from his seat near the microscopes.  

"Stuff it Con," he retorts without any heat. "I smell wonderful, don't I Reba?"

She laughs quietly. "Of course. You smell like coffee, cinnamon, and.." she smiles sweetly. "A bit like glitter glue."

He curses with a laugh, pulling his gloves on. "I thought I had gotten all stuff that washed off. Siegi went a bit overboard on her pictures this weekend. _'We have to have a lot of glitter on these stars, Daddy,'_ though somehow we ended up with more glitter on ourselves than on the pictures."

Connor flips his pen in the air and catches it. "You don't have to use your daughter as an excuse if you wanted to wear some sparkle and liven up the job Thomas. It would suit you're shining personality."

"Says the guy who actually enjoys wearing sparkle," he shoots back with a grin.

"That was one time and it was Halloween," his colleague argues vehemently.

Their boss happens to choose that moment to walk in the lab, saying with a deadpan voice, "Whatever you say Edwards. Whatever you say."

He opens his mouth to argue, but thinks better of it when Ms. Davis gives him a look. He nods silently and stands to walk over to the body bag which lays on the examination table.

Davis puts on some gloves and signals for Connor to unzip the bag. Jimmy steps over to the table to take a closer look at body. "What do we have?" he asks. 

"Last night, a woman phoned the police and said that she had heard noises coming from the house next door around midnight or so," his boss explains. "She thought the family were possibly having an argument until she looked out her back window and saw a figure running from the neighbor's house into the woods. Police arrived and found the entire family brutally murdered, the two children in their room, the father in the hallway, and the wife in bed. There were bloody footprints leading from upstairs to outside and then disappearing into the woods. The unsub entered the house by cutting a hole in the glass of the backdoor and just waltzed right in."

"Causes of death?"

"We can tell from the blood spatter on the pillow that the father's neck was cut in the bed, and then he probably stumbled out in the hallway to try to protect the children but collapsed from blood loss on the way there. The unsub then went to the children's room, shot one of them in bed and then the other on the floor. Both head shots. He shot the wife right of the navel which entered her lower spine which she then collapsed on the bed and slowly bled out," Davis pauses, shaking her head. "A real son of a bitch who did this."

He nods absentmindedly as Connor pulls back the cover of the bag, revealing the body a deceased woman who looks up at the ceiling with her mouth slightly open. He whole eyes looks black, as blood has completely filled the sclera. "Anything out of the ordinary?"

"The walls of the master bedroom were practically painted with blood and the wall closest to the door had blood spatter from three of the victims, indicating that the unsub moved the bodies there for a certain amount of time before placing them back in the original places they died. There was a bit of talcum powder on the bodies, but none found in the house. But now here's where it gets weird," she steps forward and gestures to Connor. He grabs a bag of glass lying on a cart nearby and hands it to her before it's transferred into his hands. 

He looks over pieces of glass in the bag as Davis goes on. "Every mirror in the house was smashed and the whole family was found with these broken bits of mirror placed over their eyes and in their mouths."

He looks up in slight alarm. "The same m.o. like the case two weeks ago?"

She nods. "Most likely, because the most peculiar anomaly was that there were bite marks found on the body of Mrs. Leeds, just like the other housewife." He steps forward to look where Connor points out the marks on her body. 

"I've taken moldings of the teeth marks and another set from a piece of cheese left in the fridge," Connor lifts a model of a set of teeth, pointing to specific areas of interests. "Pegged lateral incisors here and here, teeth are all crooked. Central incisor has got a corner missing, another central incisor has got a groove in it.

Reba lifts an eyebrow. "A snaggletooth son of a bitch?" 

"Probably," Connor snorts, setting down the model carefully on the cart.

Jimmy looks down at the bag in his hands. "Did you get prints off this pieces and the rest of the house?"

Davis nods. "Stephen took prints last night. There were none after sweeping the house, at least none from anyone other than the family and some friends who we are checking out right now. There was a print on one of the glass pieces, forth finger smudged that was wedged in her labia."

"Just one?" he asks.

"Just one, the rest are obscured by blood. But you are free to look over this body that hasn't been looked over. Stephen did the others and couldn't find any."

He hands the bag off and steps forward, grabbing a magnifying glass to start examine the skin of the woman. "You could of called me, you know."

She looks over at him, shaking her head. "You were you busy with your child this weekend, and babysitters are difficult to come by at 1 am."

He shrugs. "Yeah but-"

Connor cuts in. "But nothing Thomas. You work hard enough as it is," he turns to look at his colleague, who for once is serious. The man looks subdued by the recount of the crime. "Plus, you shouldn't have to see the bodies of some murdered kids."

After a minute, he reluctantly nods, because understands that they're right. His mouth twists as he wills down the nauseous feeling at the thought of children being murdered. It's something he's had to contend with in recent years.

He looks into the woman's eyes and then does a double take. He brings the magnifying glass up and sees what looks like a possible print in the corner of her left eye. He gestures to Con for the fingerprint lifting tape. He's handed it and then carefully uses a tool to peal back the eye lids and places the tape on the eyeball directly. He lifts it up to the light.

"Got a partial, a thumb, though it's a bit smudged."

"Good," his boss nods. "You can use that to run through AFIS and Edwards can use his teeth model to try identify any suspects. Reba, you can take photos of the body and work on developing them."

Reba grabs her camera, and carefully walks towards the table by memory of the room's layout, but pauses in front of the body, titling her head. "Why do think he does the thing with the mirrors? Just puts the pieces on the victims?"

Jimmy looks down at the body, hit with a sudden thought. "He wants them to see."

Davis turns towards him, asking curiously. "See what?"

'Shit, Wil- _someone_ was always better at this. He fidgets and decides to try to explain his thought, because call it intuition, but those mirrors could be more than just practical usage. "He wants to see himself in his victim's eyes. The way that he _desires_ to be seen." He looks at the blood filled eyes of Mrs. Leeds. "You said all the mirrors in the house were smashed. Maybe he doesn't like how he looks, I mean his mouth is mess from what we can see. He could be possibly disfigured in some way."

Edwards eyes look towards the model of teeth. "Yeah, but maybe not enough to provoke alarm, or else we would've caught the guy first day due to reports of a disfigured monster roaming the streets."

Davis nods, looking at the body once more. "We'll get a profile together of what we have and try get a sketch artist's rendering of possible unsubs. Put the sketches out in the news and make the public aware. Let's catch this bastard."

With that, she dismisses them to their jobs as she takes off her own gloves and throws them in the bin on her way out. Connor begins helping Reba take photos of the body, and he himself takes his finger print and heads back towards his office to upload and review of the print off the mirror.

He sits down in his chair with a sigh and begins bringing up the digital documents from last night. He also places the fingerprint on the scanner to upload to the server and begin running it through AFIS. While he waits for the print to upload, he brings up his day planner on his computer to look over his schedule for the coming week. 

Today is ballet class from 3:30-4:30, tomorrow appointment with Dr. Huang at 2pm, soccer practice at 4pm, ballet class again on Wednesday, swim lesson on Saturday at noon, followed by a visit to the pet shelter, and so on. It seems almost crazy to think this list of activities would become the routine kind of week he would be planning outside of work. Hell, it's insane the amount of hours he's spent watching video tutorials of how-to-do hairstyles to practice on his daughter's hair. Almost four or five years ago, he couldn't even imagine having a child.

He recalls telling Jack and the others once, _"I’m particularly fond of cats, not particularly fond of children."_  

But that memory seems almost a lifetime ago now that he has Siegi. He couldn't nor would want to imagine a life without her. She gives him a reason to even turn off the alarm in the morning and get up from the bed. He can imagine that if every toy and drawing decorating the house were to disappear, the place would feel depressingly empty. He never thought he could even feel as much love for someone other than his own parents before Siegi came along. And though the career he has is still it's same old self, difficult and regularly filled with death, going to every ballet recital, soccer game, and swim lesson for Siegi gives him a joy that wouldn't be possible to find if he didn't have her. She makes all the death that he sees feel less harsh than it could be.

And though she came from two people who personified the very darkness he regularly confronts on the job, if given the choice if he could go back and change how things went, he wouldn't.

 

Because losing Siegi, he realizes, wouldn't be worth it.

 

~~~

 

  

The first time Jimmy met the infamous Hannibal Lecter, he turned out to be exactly what he was expecting and then some. _  
_

 

_He can hear a familiar voice of Jack nearing the lab, discussing quick facts of the current case with an unfamiliar voice that has a very heavy accent. Walking in, Jack introduces the team to the well-dressed man as Dr. Hannibal Lecter._

_He takes a long look, appraising the psychiatrist that stands before them. 'So this was the man Jack goes on and on about as if he were the second coming.' The doctor's appearance didn't disappoint what Jimmy had imagined the man to be look like. Hair smoothed back without any strand out of place, dressed in a well-fitting suit that seemed a mixture between brown, beige, and grey, with a matching paisley tie, laid over a collared pin-stripped shirt. The man even had a pocket square that was white with gold polka dots; yet, the outfit did not make him look ridiculous. Instead, it's expensive classiness only emphasized what high regard he should be approached with, what respect was demanded and well-given. He was so unlike Will Graham, in that when he walked into a room, though he appeared non-pulsed by a crowd, he acknowledged the gazes of the audience he drew and possibly revealed in it._

_Jimmy takes the cue from Jack to explain the body before them. "His name was Rolan Umber, same profile of the other victims. Lived alone, disappeared from home, a large dose of heroin in his system."_

_"This victim wasn't unstrung, he was ripped from his moorings, " Jack pointed out at the cracks in the embalmed skin, like shards of ice on a pond._

_Dr. Lecter steps in. "Whatever his imperfection, it was enough to aggregate the killer into tearing him down." The deduction was sound enough to make them fall silent for a moment._

_Bev breaks the silence. "He was discarded in a tributary over 400 miles away from anything that feeds into the dam, where the first victims were found."_

_"Like dandelion seeds," Dr. Lecter suggests, gazing down at the body. "Casting bodies in every direction but his own."_

_"Very poetic," he offers while collecting samples. He could feel the doctor's gaze slip from the body up to him and remain there. He continues to work and decidedly not look up._

_"The buffering in the current causes so many postmodern injuries, it's impossible to tell them.." Zeller moves over to point out a injury near the head, causing Hannibal's gaze to break as he steps back to maneuver around Zeller, "...from the one's they got when they were alive."_

_Zeller then faces sideways and runs into Hannibal as he politely backs up, accidentally running into Bev who says a soft "excuse me." Dr. Lecter turns a bit flustered, at where to stand._

_"Doctor," Jack calls and signals him over with his hand to the side. "Join me over here."_

_Hannibal goes to stand by Jack, slipping right back into his poised self as if the misstep never occurred. Jimmy could envy having such a graceful disposition. The psychiatrist leans over to Jack."There may be trace evidence preserved in the craquelure."_

_He frowns a bit confused, the doctor's accent a bit heavy and making the word hard to understand. He looks up from the samples towards the man. "What?" he asks._

_Dr. Lecter eyes snap to him as if taken a back at his question before answering. "Craquelure..it's French, " he repeats, gazing at him as if that would ring any bells. He lifts his head, but gives no sign of recognition, so the man delves further. "It's the cracks that appear on oil painting as it dries and becomes ridged with age." The doctor breaks eye contact and looks down at the body. "Cracks are not always weaknesses...a life lived accrues in the cracks."_

_While the good doctor's insights were very deep and metaphorical, that didn't explain how the man was choosing such different victims ranging in age to gender to skin tone, until Bev pointed out that the differences in skin color could be the correlation as to how the victims were being chosen, like an array for a "color palate" she calls it. It's an insightful deduction, but something he immediately knows she must have sought outside help from, the person in question he too finds himself a bit torn on these day._

_He watches as Dr. Lecter consider her for a long moment before speaking. "Fascinating insight Ms. Katz," the man's eyes looking back down at the victim's pictures. "As if Will Graham himself were here in the room," he comments before turning around and moving back to examine the body. Internally, Jimmy winces for Bev._

_He sees Jack gaze at Bev with a calmness that barely masks his irritation, but does nothing to hide his displeased tone "Yes, it is."_

_He looks away from the pair and immediately meets the eyes of Dr. Lecter, who hadn't been examining the body, but instead had already been looking at him._ _Unlike Will, Hannibal had no reservation about looking you in the eye as if he could see you're soul and play judge and jury for it._

_They continue to stare at one another, until Jimmy decides to break the gaze and focuses back on his samples, turning away to get some more empty vials. He could've sworn, before he looked away that the corner of Dr. Lecter's mouth had lifted._

_This encounter was the first of many with the good doctor. He was a smart and insightful man who was both charming and disarming in a similar fashion. He could read people so easily like a novel, and if not, he would put his hands into your life as if he was a surgeon again and pry out your darkest secrets. What he do with them though, is another question entirely._

To this day, he never really knows what Dr. Hannibal Lecter was searching for when he looked at him so intently that first day. He  wonders though if he had known, had any clue as to how dark Hannibal's mind was, would he have run away as fast as he could or continue to wade into the deep end until it was all too late?

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're enjoying the story and I'm glad to get started back on this. 
> 
> Siegi, Jimmy's daughter, is in my mind supposed to looks exactly like Harper Beckham. Here's a picture to help visualize if you need to -> https://thenypost.files.wordpress.com/2015/04/470030006.jpg  
> I could not tell if her hair is dark blonde or light brown so I went with light brown for the color because that's what it looks like in normal daylight.
> 
> Also Siegi is short for her real name, which I will discuss in due time. So for the mean time its Siegi, which I pronounce in my head like C-G. 
> 
> Jimmy supposedly in the TV show has a twin whom is only mentioned once but never given a name. I used the name of Tommy/Thomas as the cover name for Jimmy in an idea that his twin could be named Tommy (but in this story doesn't exist). Also the full fake name he uses with people (bar co-workers, boss, etc.) is Thomas James Beverly, which I can assume you can guess why he uses Beverly as the last name. James is a way to keep his name and in a way keep a part of himself.  
> A fun fact which helps situate some of the scenes in this chapter and future scenes is the location of the FBI in Chicago which is 2111 W Roosevelt Rd, Chicago, IL 60608.
> 
> The line in this chapter that says 'He recalls telling Jack and the others once, "I’m particularly fond of cats, not particularly fond of children"' is actually from the show. When I first heard it I was like, 'what absolutely luck!' lol


	3. What the Hands can do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing a story specifically dealing with children whose parent or parents are serial killers ( in this case mpreg), I didn't want to skim over the potential issues. The beginning of this chapter looks into the important issue of behavioral genetics, specifically psychopathology. 
> 
> Plus I love Dr. Huang from SVU so might as well use a character already made who does wonders with psychiatry, especially with children.
> 
> Also, Jimmy's term of endearment for Siegi is toots- pronounced like way you say tootsie rolls. Just wanted to clear that up if people are confused.
> 
>  
> 
> P.S. I know I am referring in the Will's flashback to a crime scene that was from season 1 (that has hannibal in it) where last chapter I said Jimmy and Hanni met for the first time face-to-face in season 2. I made it so Jimmy still does not interact in that scene with Hannibal but he was there in that scene, if that makes sense.
> 
> It's more about the fingerprints and not actually the timeline of the show, sorry if that's irritating. This whole story is going to be curved to fit the story.  
> And yes, I apologize if most want to see Hannibal and Will rush in but that won't happen for some time (it will eventually). Just be patient with me please, gotta set the scene and even decide how this story will end.

 

_He slips the section of tape onto the scanner, pressing the start button to allow the print to be sent to the computer. As the light on the scanner passes from one side to the other, the image slowly appears on the screen, the last of the fingerprints collected from the most recent crime scene. Once done uploading, he clicks on the newest print to enlarge it alongside the rest. His eyes trace over the unique patterns that lie in the prints: no whorls, no arches, yet luck seems on their side, as there is a radial loop that lies in the index finger. Loops are the most common of the patters, but radial loops are a rarity._

_"The subject must be interesting."_

_He snaps out of his thoughts to turn towards the source of the voice, the sight of Dr. Lecter greeting him as he stands near the lab entrance . The man is dressed in dark brown today, laid in with faint reds in the plaid and creams in the tie. He has a slight tilt of the mouth as he enters the room, carrying his long black coat under his arm._

_"Forgive my intrusion, but I'm curious as to how the image can be the cause of such focused scrutiny. You stare at the fingerprints as I would stare at Botticelli's 'Primavera.'"_

_Jimmy would feel a bit embarrassed that he's not as well-versed in famous artwork, or any for that matter, but instead he feels flattered that he's caused a bit of curiosity in the polished man. It's a plus that its over a subject matter he's passionate about._

_He smiles, sliding his seat over to allow the doctor a good view of the screen. "I'm looking for different patterns in the prints. Depending on what I find, it can narrow the infinite possibilities of our perp, from thousands to hundreds. Once the suspect list shrinks, we can the use the prints to determine age, gender and perhaps even occupation, if the suspect has callouses."_

_Dr. Lecter lifts an eyebrow. "And you can tell all this from a single examination?"_

_"Yes," he smiles, a bit proud of his work. "Though I wouldn't be considered specialized in latent fingerprints if I couldn't."_

_Hannibal leans over to look at the screen, sharp eyes looking over the image as if it could reveal it's secrets._ _"How did you come to this line of work?" The doctor turns his head, titling it in a charming way. "A childhood dream of yours?" he adds in a lighthearted fashion._

_He chuckles, shaking his head. "No, as kid this was the furthest thing from my mind. But in college, I was studying sociology and took a class on the sociology of the justice system. One lecture was devoted to the idea of investigating crime scenes, and the professor said that 'fingerprints are both the bane of one person and the joy of another. Each print tells an entire life's story, and all you need to do is look close enough to read it.' Kinda cheesy, I'll admit, but it was enough to count me sold. Within the week, I added a minor in forensic science and eventually switched career routes to join the FBI."_

_Dr. Lecter's eyes look at the print. "Fascinating how something so small and trivial can garner such gravity."_

_"They may seem small and mundane to some, but to me, they're like artwork in a way, each one is unique. The pattern lines are like cracks in the artwork of people, and as I recall you said, 'life accrues in the cracks.' Isn't that right, Dr. Lecter?"_

_The doctor's eyes flicker immediately back to him and a smile appears as if he's amused by his recollection,"Yes, I suppose so."  He then stands straight, hands smoothing down his suit jacket. "If you'll excuse me, I have to aid Agent Crawford with an consultation. Thank you Agent Price for the stimulating conversation."_

_He then turns and walks out of the lab and down the hallway, leaving Jimmy feeling like he's just jousted with an opponent and succeed in standing his ground. He even sees the doctor look for a moment at his hands, as if fascinated by the new information. With a bit of an accomplished spirit, he turns back to the images and focuses back on his analysis._

_He does not notice that Dr. Lecter looks back at him before disappearing into Jack's office._

 

~~~

 

He opens the door, helping unbuckle Siegi before allowing her to jump out of the car. He locks the doors, holding out his hand so she can grab his as they walk towards his work place. As they walk on the sidewalk, they come across some snow building up on the edges of the concrete. Siegi breaks off to kick a pile with her snow boots, giggling as it crumbles, then runs back and grabs his hand again. He smiles at her antics as they head inside the FBI building. Inside the woman at the front desk waves hello to them before they go towards the elevators. Their first stop is on the third floor, with the behavioral analysis unit and one Dr. Huang.

Dr. George Huang is a forensic psychiatrist, specializing in psychopathology and behavioral neurogenetics. When Jimmy had been working in the Chicago office for almost 2 years, he had expressed concern to Davis about his child possibly taking off behavioral and mental tendencies of the other unnamed parent(s). Siegi of course had shown no signs of taking after Will or Hannibal, but even since before she was born, he had been worried that she might inherit some of their more unstable mentalities. 

His boss had immediately understood and recommended Dr. Huang, who has worked as FBI agent and psychiatrist, partnering with the Special Victims Unit (SVU) for the past 10 years. She said he regularly confronts antisocial and even psychotic suspects and has a gift for speaking with victims, particularly children. He however does not live in Chicago, instead hailing from Manhattan, New York so their scheduled visits are usually 4-6 months apart. 

He had been nervous the first time he brought Siegi in, at the time she had been only a little over 2 years old, hair reaching the top of her shoulders. She too had been a bit shy to meet a new person, holding Marley close to her chest as she said a soft hello to the psychiatrist from where she peaked from behind his legs. Luckily, George was wonderful to her, speaking with a gentle voice and a kind smile on his face the whole time. Almost two years and no more unfamiliarity later, she runs out of the elevators and straight into the usual room with a smile on her face.

"George!" she shouts with joy at seeing one of her favorite people standing in front of her, immediately wrapping her arms around the laughing man's legs in a hug.

"Well hey there sweetheart!" he greets, patting her head fondly. Jimmy smiles and creaks the door open further as he makes his way in, the sound causing George to look up at him, sticking out his hand to shake. "Jimmy, good to see you."

He shakes the hand, greeting the man warmly. "George. How was the trip down?"

"Good," he says, letting go of the hand and tries to walk over to the couch, only to have Siegi giggle as she stands on his foot and holds onto his leg. George smile widens as he lifts up the leg with his daughter on it to step forward before lifting the other, every other step punctuated with a small giggle. "Luckily it hasn't started snowing enough to close down the roads just yet."

"Knock on wood my friend," he chuckles, hanging up his coat and then lending a hand to help lift Siegi off his leg and out of her coat. Once freed she immediately tries hop up onto the suede couch, abet a little help from George when she struggles, looking ready to begin their session.

 Jimmy takes his cue, hooking a thumb over his shoulder. "I'll be outside if you need me."

"Okay daddy," she says, swinging her legs to and fro.

He nods at George before going outside the room, closing the door behind him. Unbeknownst to Siegi, he inside the next room over, which has an observation room. Someone had also thought to put a coffee machine in here, which if Jimmy could have that person canonized, he would.

Once he has a hot cup of coffee in his hand, he heads towards the two way mirror, pressing the button on soundbox to be able to hear the conversation. George and Siegi have move themselves towards the child's table set up near the corner of the room. There are a few art supplies scattered around on the flat surface.

"...and did you have a good weekend?" George asks.

 Siegi nods her little head. "Yeah, me and daddy got to go play with the puppies."

"The puppies?" George asks with an surprised face. "At the shelter?"

"Yeah! They were happy to see me because they licked my face," she giggles.

George smiles at the sound, making a few notes on his clipboard. "And what about at night? Are you having any scary dreams?"

Siegi does that thinking face she makes when asked a question, before she shakes her head. "No."

"Have they been good dreams?"

"Mmm hmm."

George takes a blank piece of paper and places it in front of Siegi. "Can you draw me what you've been dreaming about."

She nods again, reaching for the crayons before beginning to draw out what's in her mind. Jimmy watches his daughter's small hands scribbling furiously on the paper, making the once blank paper come to life with color. It's crazy to imagine such an amazing person could possibly exist, some who is strong, yet gentle and loving, while still innocent and inquisitive; all these things make her who is is. Remembers a time when he wanted strength to be the utmost important aspect of his soon to be child.

 

_“So let me get this straight," Brian leans against the dining table while holding one of many baby name books. "You wanna name her something…. **strong**?”_

_He sighs.“Yes, although when you put it like that it makes sound a bit looney," Zeller just gives him a look. "What I mean by strong is nothing like Stacy, Candice, or Brittany, you know? She needs a name that represents her strength. She’s gonna have to be strong if she’s born into this world that we’ve seen so much bad of.”_

_Brian nods, a thoughtful look in his eyes. “Thorhilda?”_

_He throws an unimpressed look at his best friend. “I am not naming my child after a comic book character.”_

_"Hey why not?" Brian tries to argue. "That would be cool."_

_"Until some kids school start making fun of her," he points out, shakes his head with a smile. "Besides it sounds like the name makes her sound like some Swedish milkmaid."_

_Brian pauses in thought, taking in his words, before smiling at him and claps. “Zelda?”_

_He throws the baby name book at Brian who laughs as he dodges it._

 

He's brought back to the present when the door to the observation rooms open and George steps inside. He notices the clock on the wall, signaling that the the time is almost up.

"She's looks good, her drawings and our conversation indicate no serious concern about mental issues. The only thing on her mind is her birthday coming up. She's pretty excited from what I can tell."

Jimmy breathes out in relief. "Thanks Doc."

George smiles. "It's no problem at all, Jimmy. You don't have to be so worried all the time; there's never been any cause for concern with her."

Jimmy looks towards the window, watching as his baby colors another picture, her tongue sticking out of her mouth in concentration.

"I know, it's just you can't be too careful these day. If we can catch something early on, than I'd rather be an overly paranoid parent than an ignorant or neglectful one."

George gives his shoulder a friendly pat. "I doubt you could ever be neglectful towards her. You've gone above and beyond forming your whole life around making sure she's happy. She loves you all the more for that."

"And I love her, so much so that I'd do anything" he says with such certainty, that leaves no room for doubt.

"Well, seeing as I'm sure you probably wanting these check-up sessions to continue, I can arrange for an earlier visit next time."

"Sounds great, George."

They head back to collect Siegi, all three of them taking the elevator to go up to his floor. Arriving to the Behavioral Research and Instruction Unit, he finds his three colleagues are gathered around a conference table near the elevators, going over clues and samples. They of course don't mind the interruption as  George greets Davis warmly and Siegi races over to hop onto Reba's lap where she is sitting. Both women listen to Connor as dives into an exaggerated story, the voices and expressions he makes entertains his daughter thoroughly. Reba is smiling the whole time, wandering fingers brushing through Siegi's hair gently. 

He realizes in this moment, standing in the door frame, how blessed his is to have such a wonderful thing he calls family. 

Later that evening, after the ballet classes and mac n' cheese dinner, he tucks Siegi into bed, carefully placing each of her stuffed animals around her.

"Daddy, can you tell me a story?" she asks, hugging her favorite dug plushie close to her.

"A story? Hmm...well there is one story I could tell, but I don't know if you want to hear it. It's about this dragon and a princess and a knight in shining armor-"

"Tell it daddy!"

"Are you sure? It's a big adventure."

She giggles. "Yes daddy. Please!"

He pretends to hold out before conceding. "Okay. I'll tell. Once upon a time, in a land far away, there lived a beautiful princess that was loved by all in the land...."

 ~~~

 

_Jimmy staggers up to the house, pushing past a gathered crowd of bystanders and reporters. Police tape keeps them from getting to close, along with a few vigilant cops to make sure no one's trying to get a good look at the blood bath inside. Jack gave a few details briefly over the phone, but as Jimmy walks towards the house, It's times like these he rather be a civilian instead of a forensic analyst. Maybe then he could have less bloody-soaked images in his head, and pretend his job is like being in an episode of CSI: NY._

_FYI, it's not._

_He strides forward, determined to get the evidence while it's fresh before some untrained newbie cops can contaminate the scene. However, he suddenly himself halting in his tracks._

_In front of him he spots Will Graham, looking dazed as he stares at the EMT's and an unknown man loading a stretcher into the back of an ambulance; the bed holds a dark haired girl with red stained bandages around her neck, looking like she is knocking on death's door. Even as everyone hustles and bustles around Will, he stays still and remains looking dazed._

_Jimmy walks towards him, until he stands not but a foot from the man. "Will?" he asks cautiously._

_The man startles, as if suddenly realizing where he is. Will looks at him, eyes half-pleading, half-crazed. His face and neck have blood spatter, the glasses he's sporting have seen better days, and definitely don't help his appearance. Jimmy feels kinda horrible for looking down, seeing the moment Will mirrors his movement and realizes his hands are bloody as well._

_"I-" he tries to start, Jimmy can see him swallowing thickly around his words. "I shot him. I shot him because he killed his wife and was trying to kill his own-"_

_Jimmy reaches out and lays a firm hand on Will's arm. "Will, you don't have to explain to me. You stopped someone from doing a heinous crime."_

_Will shakes his head, looking away from his hands with a look of disgust. "Doesn't matter. I killed him, and all he could say is 'see, see', like we're so similar."_

_"Well from the looks of it, I'd beg to differ. Will you saved someone today."_

_The man turns and looks at him, jaw clenched in self-loathing. "At what cost? I just as much of a monster as he is." He brings his hands up and clenches his fists, slowly beginning to hyperventilate. "Look at my hands, they're stained!"_

_Jimmy looks back calmly, feeling undeniable pity for this man whose so lost. He sets his supplies down, knowing the evidence can wait a bit longer._

_He grabs Will's fists, making the man's face wipe clean of any expression, eyes lost._

_"When I was in the academy, one of my forensic professors showed two pictures, both of hands. He told us to look at the hands and tell us what we think each person did with them. What their job was, their hobbies, their life goals. Let me tell you, it wasn't easy; each hand print had no scars, no tattoos, no callouses, nothing. Just two pictures of regular hands. So wanna know what he told us?" Jimmy carefully pries open Will's clenched fists with his fingers until they lay flat. "The picture on the right were hands of a local serial killer from the early 90s, the pictures on the left were the hands of his third victim. The point my professor was trying to make is that our hands can look the exact same, no matter how much good or evil we've done. It's not about appearance, it's about what your hands choose to do."_

_Will looks at him, expression indecipherable to Jimmy. Instead he looks down and gives the now fading rust colored hands a squeeze. "Hobbs choose to take life for the sole purpose of watching the light fade from his victims eyes, including his own wife's and daughter's. You took a life to save another, to prevent any more evil from happening. Compared to Hobb's hands, yours look pretty clean to me."_

_He looks back up at Will, who now is gazing at his hands solemnly with a new light in his eyes. 'Good', he thinks, gently letting go of Will's hands to collect his stuff._

_As he walks away, he does not notice that unrecognizable man had been watching their exchange the whole time in the ambulance as the medics worked to stabilize the girl. Jimmy does not see the moment Will makes eye contact with the man._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm, wonder where Botticelli's 'Primavera' is from. Anyone have a guess? ^_^


End file.
